


December will be magic again?

by MordorNPP



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angels, Christmas, Eventual Romance, Ghosts, M/M, Resurrection, Supernatural Elements, but wait, not angst, some characters might appear later, you probably want to skip it because it has character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MordorNPP/pseuds/MordorNPP
Summary: Sportacus dies a month before Christmas. He meets the mysterious Angels of Christmas who offer him a chance to become a Christmas spirit if he convinces the first person he meets to love Christmas. And the first stranger he meets turns out to hate Christmas passionately.  Sportacus gets the chance to come to life for a short time, but little does he know how this is going to end.





	December will be magic again?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays everyone! (or belated holidays, depending when you celebrate Christmas/other winter holidays). I've had the idea for this fanfiction since last February (loosely based on a Tumblr prompt), and I even posted it online in the Russian "tumblrtown" community, but apparently, no one has written anything on this idea. So I decided to give it a try myself. I promise it won't be that angsty as it seems!

He was dead, to begin with. There was no doubt about that to Sportacus himself. He didn’t have the slightest idea of how he died, though, for the last day of his life had mysteriously vanished from his mind. In Sportacus’ head there were only the events of the day before his death – and then he regained consciousness with a complete numbness in his body and in his head (or what used to be his head). He was too late to see his own body for the last time, and too late to see his own birth certificate. The only thing he was able to see was his simple gravestone, just with his name and his dates of birth and death. In other words, Sportacus was dead as a doornail, and he had been like that since November 25.

His first week was all about adjustment to his new life, or afterlife, in this case. At first, Sportacus tried to go back to the apartment he lived in, but when he had come there, he saw that the apartment was already being rented by someone else, and all his belongings were gone somewhere. Next, he decided to go to the place he used to work at – a fitness center a few blocks away from his house – and he was lucky this time. His working place was as he left it, clean yet untouched by other people. Hoping that it would go on, Sportacus decided to rest there for a while, just to get used to being a ghost.

These were the things that he discovered during that week: he was invisible to other people, he didn’t have to eat or sleep, he could move very fast, his figure didn’t reflect in the mirror. It all seemed too boring: no food to eat, no body to exercise, no communication with anyone. Besides, he still didn’t have the slightest idea of how he died. Still, just as when he was alive, Sportacus was an optimist. He’ll figure it out later, he thought.

Soon enough, he made up a schedule for himself. He’d stay inside before the center opened and after it closed, spending his time in thought and small attempts to help other employees – such as cleaning the gym floor.  And during the day time, he would go for a walk around the city, hoping that he’d find something that would give him the answers to his questions. During the time he was outside, Sportacus would see other ghosts moving through the city time after time, but wouldn’t dare to approach them and speak to them, nor would the other ghosts notice him.

December 1, at approximately 5:30 pm, other ghosts – a group of about a dozen - spoke to him in the park where he had been on his usual walk. All gathered around the fountain that had a statue of an angel at its center, they resembled some sort of a religious cult. They called themselves Angels of Christmas, even though they didn’t look like angels at all. What they looked like were dark figures in long grey cloaks with big hoods and long sleeves, without any faces or hands seen. Before Sportacus was able to ask them any questions, they started a long speech on what it all meant. The Angels of Christmas dedicated their everlasting time after death to help other people before, after and during Christmas. Those so called "Christmas miracles" were their work all the time. If the angels were good enough at "performing those miracles", they got to reincarnate. Also, the Angels got a circle of understanding friends and universal emotional support. Having poured this all information out, hey asked him if he would like to become one of them.

Sportacus thought that he had nothing to lose anyway, so he said a single “Yes” almost instantly. No one gave any emotional reaction to what he said. With the same intonation, one of the Angels proceeded that if Sportacus really desired that, then he had to do the following. He would have to go to the nearest city square. The first person he met was meant to be a person who hates Christmas with all their heart, and Sportacus was supposed to make them fall in love with it. Now, he would get into his old body once again and have the life as before, and if he succeeded, he would become one of the Angels after this Christmas. "Any questions?" - the ghost said at the end of their speech.

Sportacus hardly had any hope to get an answer, but still decided to ask the question that tormented him. “Do you know any circumstances of my death?”

“No.  Go now”.

And then, by a force of an unknown kind, Sporacus was on his way. With the wind at his back, the walk to the square was quite short, even though he was supposed to be in his human body now. At the square, there were a lot of people, but none of them noticed Sportacus, as if he was still a ghost. They were all rushing from one shop to another, carrying various bags, talking to other people. There were plenty of holiday decorations, even though it was only the first day of December. Nevertheless, to be fair, the snow storm kind of gave a holiday feeling: snow really made this city look magical and enchanting.  
It still felt like a dream, and Sportacus had trouble in deciding if it was all real or just a fantasy. Looking around to make eye contact with someone, he didn't notice the ground being too slippery, and so he fell down, bumping into someone in the process of falling.

“Hey, watch where you’re going! I dropped my bags because of you!” Sportacus looked up and saw that the person who was shouting at him was a tall man who was about the same age as him, wearing a short purple coat and a hat with red and white stripes with a matching scarf. On the ground where Sportacus was sitting, there were a few paper and plastic bags –probably the ones that man had dropped.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Let me pick those up”. After a few seconds of comprehending everything around him, Sportacus was finally able to pronounce a few words, making an attempt to pick up all the bags and get up. This was it, his mission had just begun. His knees hurt, and there would probably be bruises on them later. He had no hat on, and he could feel the snow falling on his head and the cold of the December wind. But the thing that mattered most at that moment was that he was alive again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I know it was short, but more will come eventually. Tell me what you think and if I should continue.


End file.
